


Starving Artists

by StormStar11273



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Art, DWSA - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, I don't ship them, Music, but i thought this was cute, days at the piano, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:06:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormStar11273/pseuds/StormStar11273
Summary: It started when Georg had asked Ernst for help studying history- the dark-eyed boy had a proficiency for old English kings and popes, and agreed to help Georg on the condition that he would help him with mathematics. It was agreed upon that Ernst would come over to Georg's house after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next two and a half weeks to revise, but two and a half weeks ended three months ago. The creatures of habit settled into theirs without a second thought, reading, studying, listening to Georg play. It didn't matter.





	Starving Artists

They didn't exactly know how they kept ending up in Georg's living room every other afternoon, with no sound but the occasional rustle of paper or the tap of a pencil against a temple. Georg was always seated straddling the piano bench, hunching over his Homer, but Ernst had more freedom to move around. Sometimes he would be sprawled out on the floor, his work strewn all around him. Sometimes he would be at the writing desk, his long legs stretched to rest his feet on the surface as he lazily thumbed through a book. But usually, he would be in the brown armchair next to the piano- textbook open on his lap and a pencil balanced between his lips.

It started when Georg had asked Ernst for help studying history- the dark-eyed boy had a proficiency for old English kings and popes, and agreed to help Georg on the condition that he would help him with mathematics. It was agreed upon that Ernst would come over to Georg's house after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next two and a half weeks to revise, but two and a half weeks ended three months ago. The creatures of habit settled into theirs without a second thought, reading, studying, listening to Georg play. It didn't matter.

Ernst had come to consider Georg as one of his closest friends, even though they seldom shared a word. They didn't really need to.

"Play that last one again," Ernst commands lightly with a wave of his hand after the piano falls silent on the cool Thursday afternoon. The sweet and melancholy notes took Ernst back to a long buried memory. Somewhere warm and yellow, pulling at his heart.

"That one's easy. I can show you how to play it?" Georg says, though it comes out like a question. He slides over on the bench, patting the seat lightly, indicating for Ernst to sit. "If you've finished with you Latin, of course?"

"I haven't, but a break would be nice," Ernst sighs, unfolding his legs and standing to join Georg at the tiny piano bench. He drops down next to his friend, resting his hands on his knees.

"Do you know how to read sheet music?" Georg asks, straightening the untidy stack of handwritten annotated music on the stand. Ernst shakes his head, running a careful finger over the ivory. They keys are still warm from Georg's playing.

"I was in church choir for a few years, but we never had to know how to read the music, only how to hit the notes," he replies, eliciting a chuckle from Georg. "Just follow what I do," he laughs, gently taking Ernst's wrists and placing his fingers on the correct keys.

"There," Georg straightens his back, resting his fingers in an identical pattern the octave up from Ernst. Georg began by playing a measure, slowly as to allow his companion ample time to study the way his fingers moved over the keys. Clumsily, Ernst repeated the melody a few times, his lips curling into a smile when he finally got it right.

"That's good, now this next part goes..." Georg begins playing the next measure, letting the music flow through through his fingertips into the keys, like the piano was an extension of him. This continues for what feels like hours. Ernst mostly watches, transfixed by the way Georg's hands gently caress the keys, deliberately coaxing out some of the most beautiful and pure music that had surely ever been played.

"Do you need me to repeat it?" Georg asks tentatively when Ernst doesn't copy, pulling his attention from the pianist's fingers to his bespectacled face. Ernst's fingers ghost over the keys, unsure where to start.

"What piece is this?" Ernst counters, punctuating the question with a shrill G sharp. Georg looks down at his lap, seemingly embarrassed.

"I, um, wrote it myself," the boy confesses without making eye contact with Ernst, "I am still working on it, I just wanted to try it out with someone listening." Georg still isn't looking at Ernst, but he can still see the blush creeping up the musician's neck.

"Am I the first person that you have played this for?" Ernst asks quietly, choosing his words carefully as to not give Georg the wrong idea. The composer nods, pushing his round glasses up his nose.

"I think it's beautiful, Georg, truly. You have a gift," Ernst insists, placing a steady hand on his friends shoulder - a simple gesture meant to reassure Georg, and hopefully encourage him. Georg tenses.

"Thank you, but I still need to fix the-" Georg mutters before his dismissal of Ernst's compliment is cut off.

"You've captured the feeling of a summer day with music," Ernst continues cautiously, "It's as if we are sitting under an oak tree as the sun sets, the wind rolling off the mountains. I don't know anyone who can do that." Georg nods as if trying to convincing himself to agree with Ernst's assessment of his piece, playing a few quiet notes in an attempt to find a productive way to release his nervous energy.

Ernst sits with Georg for a moment longer before getting up, unsure of how to proceed- "It's getting late," he reasons, "my mother will be expecting me-"

"Of course," Georg agrees, rising to his feet as his friend collects his things, "Until tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Ernst nods, showing himself out.

Tomorrow. They would see each other in school, of course, but the prospect of seeing the composer, his friend, was thrilling to Ernst in some unknowable sense. He could hear Georg's song playing in the wind.

Ernst wanders up the path to his front door, observing the quaint brick cottage, wondering what his family was doing on the other side of the walls, if they noticed he was even gone. Inside, the house had never felt so quiet.

-

From his bedroom, Ernst could hear the heirloom grandfather clock in the parlor strike two in the morning. He should have finished his homework at Georg's, he really should have, but he was on a roll now. The Latin lay forgotten at the foot of his bed while Ernst sat on the floor amidst a smattering of paints and brushes, poring over his last piece of watercolor paper. It was in this moment - eyes strained from the dim light, back aching from hunching - that Ernst truly envied Georg, and how his piano was such an acceptable part of the living room furnishings while Ernst had to keep his passion in a small wooden box tucked under his bed and out of the way as to not make his Mama upset by him leaving a mess. But he was almost done.

With gentle brush strokes, he put the finishing touches on his midnight masterpiece, humming an all-too-familiar tune under his breath as he tried to capture the feeling of a song with paint.

-

Ernst paced in his living room, weakly clutching his school bag that no longer contained books and pencils, but a piece of art that had been drying in his bedroom all morning. Georg would be back from his piano lesson at half-past four, and it was already twenty minutes past. Ernst was losing his nerve. He went over the conversation in his head:

"Hello Georg, your music spoke to me and- ah, no- inspired me so deeply that- ugh."

"Good afternoon, Herr Zirschnitz, you are not the only artist in our year, I hope this painting is up to your impeccable standards."

"Georg, I have something for you, I hope that you do not hate it, goodnight."

He'd have more time to practice on the walk over.

"Ernst! How lovely to see you again, how is your mother?" Frau Zirschnitz asks cheerfully, gesturing for him to come inside.

"She is well, Frau Zirschnitz, keeping busy. Is Georg at home?" Ernst offers a polite smile, shifting nervously as her crosses the threshold.

"Ah, yes, just back from piano lessons. Come, he's upstairs," she leads him to the staircase, lined with dull paintings of dark forests and sad horses. For as lively as Frau Zirschnitz's personality was, her decorating sense was considerably more somber.

"Georg, dear, Ernst Robel is here to see you," Georg is reading, giving Ernst a confused yet welcoming smile as he enters. "I'll leave you two to yourselves, would you boys like anything to eat?"

"No thank you Frau Zirschnitz, I won't be able to stay for long," Ernst explains, placing his satchel on the ground as she exits the room, a spring in her step.

"Ernst, it's good to see you-"

"I have something I'd like to give you," Ernst doesn't mean to interrupt Georg, he truly didn't, but he was just so nervous. This must have been how Georg felt, playing yesterday, Ernst thinks. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out the rolled-up painting, handing it to Georg.

"What is this?" Georg asks, not unrolling the paper.

"I couldn't get your song out of my head, it truly moved me, and it inspired me to..." Ernst trails off as Georg carefully unfurls the paper, taking in each brush stroke.

"It's my song." he states simply, transfixed by the painting-- two silhouettes sitting in long purple grass, watching the sun set over the blue mountains against a yellow sky.

"Ernst... Thank you... I don't know what to say, no one has ever done anything like this for me," Georg says slowly, amazed at his friend's dedication and talent, not to mention the pride he felt that his work could instill such a reaction.

"I didn't really do it- you did. Your music did, anyway," Ernst stutters, "Anyway, I just wanted you to have it. Have a good night, Georg."

"Good night, Ernst. And thank you for sharing your gift with me, thank you so much. It's beautiful." Georg looks as if he might cry for pure and certain joy.

Ernst nods, moved by the genuine appreciation in his friends eyes, "Until tomorrow?" he asks hopefully, holding out his hand.

"Until tomorrow," Georg confirms, a slight smile playing on his lips as he takes Ernst's hand, both glad to have found someone who understands.

**Author's Note:**

> so i really love how in dwsa ernst/voice are very connected to the piano, and georg's character plays piano, and it got me thinking what the significance of that is. since everyone headcanons ernst as a painter (including me lol) i thought it would be cool to have them both as artists and friends, sharing what they love with each other i don't really ship them, but i like the idea that they bond over their love of the arts <3 idk i hope you enjoyed it!!!


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